By Claudia Heywood
You might be surprised to learn that Faversham Fringe has just celebrated its eighth year.
Taking place over three weeks in October and making use of three venues in town, attendees could choose from a wildly varied programme, among them cabaret, comedy, drama, drag,hypnosis, magic, mentalism, panto and poetry. Organisers and performers were out in force at weekends, promoting their own shows and distributing distinctive pink flyers, many of which offered discounted admission for already reasonable ticket prices.
Life’s commitments allowed me only two opportunities to sample what was available, annoying because I was intrigued by at least 8 of the listings. The Fourth Witch of Faversham, a shortplay on October 5th, was my first choice and clearly popular with many others. The production, successfully delivered by a cast of only 5, drew on local historical fact and follows the commemoration in stone on International Women’s Day this year (and plainly visible on the market square) of four Faversham women convicted of witchcraft, three of whom were hanged in 1645. The fate of the fourth is not documented, but was probably similar. Their crime?
Apparently nothing more than refusing to show deference to the town’s bullying bigwigs. A sense of injustice still resonates. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, in the intimacy of the Arden Theatre, this ancient evil ever lingering in the walls of the town, made for sober reflection. Fuelled by an indignation which seemed wholly appropriate for a fringe event, the play nevertheless included humorous touches and it made you think about our perception of witches.
We know the ducking stool sink or swim stories, but most of us do not question the fairytale depiction. Repeated beatings and humiliating torture during imprisonment created the gnarled, twisted, deformed stereotype that we now recognise. And these unfairly accused women, resigned to their inevitable deaths, had no choice but to confess to anything, including liaisingwith the devil. We never hear stories of the woman before the witch. This faithfully-presented and optimistically titled play let fully developed female characters tell this story of senseless and horrific persecution and slot it back into the most miserable of our archives.
Faversham’s ancient and quirky history seemed to delight my second chosen act : Colin Etches. How could you not investigate a name like that? The programme description promised hilarious perspective from a neurodiverse point of view, especially appealing when my chosen companion was my ND daughter.
Colin’s flyer shows a musing, soft focus character, while his Instagram footage puts you more in mind - and appropriately it turns out - of Mani in his Stone Roses’ heyday. In the flesh, Etches proved a rather benign presence underneath his trademark wild hair, pacing around and swigging from a can of Monster which, the audience could only assume, balanced his ADHD.
On this occasion, he redesigned his show for a cosier feel, more appropriate for the small audience and presented an accessible mix of material: frank anecdotes of drug- fuelled, youthful misdemeanours alongside teasing but generous observations of Faversham, its welcoming feel, wonderful architecture and strangely dog-obsessed population. He laughed at the stalls that sell gourmet dog food - wasted on animals that prefer their own excrement- and I found myself somehow unable to mention the upcoming Howl-O-Ween event, devoted
to our adored creatures parading around town in spooky fancy dress. His detailed, unashamed honesty was reassuring and inviting and we spent a very pleasant hour in something that felt more like convivial conversation.
Talking to Colin after the show I tried to explain the sometimes sleepy nature of this town. The wet Saturday night had emptied all the eateries and pubs looked as if they might shut early. As we spoke, a misplaced and excitable hen party provided the only human presence in the streets and I observed wryly that people round here do not necessarily venture out for comedy. He seemed to understand. He was anxious to praise Ribs Norman, Festival Director, performer and ticket collector on the door that night, for the exhausting task of managing and marketing the festival, irrespective of perhaps a rather niche clientele. He described a past show, Attention Deficit, exploring his life with autism, ADHD and dyspraxia, which had worked superbly well.
I promised him that a local audience interested in more of exactly that material was certainly out there, encouraged him not to judge us too harshly and asked him to come back to Faversham for next year’s Fringe.
Back in July I saw Mark Thomas, for the second time, at a packed Alexander Centre, beguilingly sharing some rather outre material with a town that has proved their love for him. In his closing words, he urged the audience to support new comedy in a world where breaking in is becoming increasingly difficult. His words work well with the PS from Ribs Norman:
If this is the first you have heard of Faversham Fringe, mark your diaries now for next year every weekend in October :)
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